Daemons and Angeluses
by raiu2112
Summary: Masamune, Prince of the Underworld, son of Lucifer, has ascended Mother Earth to find -and corrupt- God's Pure Light in the form of a human boy, the innocent and awkward Ritsu - who, unknown to himself, he was God's ultimate weapon against Satan's army. Will he succeed in saving his empire or will he fall in love, risking the death of all his Luciferians? Yaoi&Cussing. Be warned.
1. Chapter 1: Spawns of The Devil

_**Daemons and Angeluses**_

P/s: Hi everyone! Let me just give a quick blurb about this story. I started this story about 3 years ago and it has been sitting on the shelf collecting dust. Originally, I titled it 'Midnight Children' but I lost my muse after Chapter 30 something and never picked it up after that. I was well over 200 pages and counting but there were bits in it I find (now that I think about it) irrelevant. Chucked it at my editor for a look and she agreed. I was reading through a few fanfics about angels, demons, gods and what not and it crossed my mind that I had something similar sitting somewhere in my laptop. When I read through it again (_that_ took a while) I realize I can pull it off if I set the scenes a little differently and the characters changed a little differently as well (since my current obsession is SIH and Junjou is just a little bible I keep by my side a lot, I'll use them and maybe shorten the chapters a little though) and hence _**Daemons and Angeluses**_ is born!

P/s: Enjoy? I guess? I doubt many would read this (;p) Sorry about that long winded introduction! Here we go!

P/s: Oooh! Disclaimer! Owns nothing from SIH or Junjou.

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_**Chapter 1: Spawns of the Devil**_

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A wide gaping mouth opened in yawn; jagged and serrated teeth lining its gums. The forked tongue, dotted with bulbous yellow blisters, flicked out, tasting the sulfuric air as it came awake, sniffing for food. The eyes were a pair of midnight orbs, with a hint of red in the depths of the darkness, an everlasting reflection of the fires of hell. Right now, the sleepy eyes roved around the figure of a woman chained to the wall. _Ah… food_, the creature thought amusingly as the woman stirred a little in what seemed to be a fitful sleep. This woman had psychic ability, but this special race of human beings was dwindling fast.

The creature must find a way to breed these special human beings successfully, he thought, axles in his mind turning, thinking, contemplating; images of his underground laboratories breeding the special human babies for cultivation coming up to the forefront of his mind. _They must breed successfully or we will have to endure feasting on common human beings instead._ _Where will we stand with God if we start coming above ground and munching on His precious humans? _He thought sardonically.

The creature stood up on his hind legs, and stretched languidly before stalking his prey. Half man, half goat – with claws for nails, hooves for feet, black horns protruding out of his forehead and curling inwards like a ram's, skin as red as blood, fur as black as night; the creature grabbed the throat of the poor woman, squeezing what was left of her life's essence and pitiful excuse of an existence and ripped her still pounding heart out from her chest. He feasted like the carnivorous animal that he was, on the fresh succulent flesh of the virgin sacrifice, chomping down like a feral beast.

_Lucifer. Satan. Iblis. Whatever name he had been called, he is Father of all that is Evil and he is the ruler of the seven levels of Hell and the Underworld. _

Once satiated, the mammoth of a monster licked his lips with a smack, wiping a hand across his face, smearing the blood to his cheeks and moved away from his sleeping den. As he exited, he called on the ominous powers within him. With every step he took, he shed his fur; revealing lean muscles and long legs with perfectly formed toes, heels, calves and thighs. Where fiery red skin was; it was now transformed into a near translucent white, smooth to the touch.

The sharp iron-like claws retracted, revealing long, graceful fingers – fingers meant for loving and caressing the skin of another, the fingers of an incubus. The black horns disappeared under a thick canopy of glossy black hair that flowed down to his hips. The only indication that this human was a beast underneath all that handsome façade was the red swirls in his black orbs. As he was casted out by God and His angels from Heaven above, with God's decree, he will forever be seen as the beast he was by his loathsome eyes.

He kept on walking, closing the doors to his den behind him with a singular thought in his mind and headed towards the antechamber. Climbing up the stairs from his fiery bed beneath the ground had always given him the time to muse over his many rampaging thoughts. He liked living as a human. Over thousands of millennia, he had enjoyed the sins of the flesh more as a human than a beast. He had always wondered if this was why God had made humans _special._ His _ultimate_ creation – the ability to feel _so_ many emotions; love, lust, guilt, happiness, wrath, sorrow… Though they do not possess the unlimited powers of the deities, they persevere through the strongest of odds. He had admired God and His creations, but he had also relished the victory every time a human succumbed to their inner beasts.

As he approached the top of the stairwell, he clicked his fingers and out of thin air, he clad himself in the attires of a human being. The door swung opened to reveal one of the handsomest men in the history of mankind. Black shoes covered his feet, making a slight clicking sound on the floor. Black leather pants hugged his legs, accentuating the muscular physique of his legs and the roundness of his gluteus maximus. His pants rode low enough that his succubus's – who were lazily lounging in the antechamber, beautiful female demons designed to seduced men to their deaths – gazes followed the trail of dark hair from his navel lustfully to the thought-provoking area of his body. His flowing black coat remained unbuttoned revealing taut abdominal muscles and the occasional peak of his nipples. It trailed behind him on the floor as he headed for his viewing room. He had called for his children the night before and he believed, by the whispers of his prime ministers' voices in his head, they were waiting for him in the viewing room impatiently.

The doors to his viewing room opened and he walked in to find his midnight born children arguing heatedly. At sensing his presence, his son and daughter ceased their squabbles and turned around, bowing low to him from the waist and waited until he had taken his seat on the throne before straightening up. His ministers were there as well; their faces coated in a slight sheen of sweat. Wondering what had gotten into his subordinates, he turned his attention to his children who were shooting daggers at each other, figuratively. He sensed the potent tension in the air and the crackle of pure energy; a sure sign that his children were trying to contain their unrivalled powers. Among all his spawns, these were the ones he loved best – if he was capable of loving at all – as they were a result of his union with two human women who had strong psychic abilities. Half demon, half human; they were capable of manipulating emotions and the natural elements of Mother Nature; earth, fire, wind and water. They were _his_ ultimate creations.

He eyed his son and daughter and mused to himself. They were born a year apart from the other and had always been inseparable. His son inherited his handsome, dark looks – a deadly weapon for men and women alike – and his daughter inherited his cunning and charm – as deadly as her brother if she turned them on her unsuspecting victims. To his right, Masamune, Prince of the Underworld, his formidable heir, Head Prime Minister and his most trusted right hand man; stood tall and proud. To his left, Raiu, the High Priestess of the seven levels of Hell, the gifted sorceress with the powers to bend any will to her own and manipulate magic; stood as tall and as proud.

"Papa," both children began together, stopped and glared at each other.

"Now, now, what has gotten under your skins, children?" Lucifer mused. Despite being six thousand years old, his offspring still bear the heart of children.

"Above ground, Papa," Masamune began, "A child has been born to an elderly couple in the city of Tokyo, Japan," he cast a troubled look at his half-sister, Raiu.

"The prophecy, Papa, one thousand years ago, the High Priestess before me claimed that a child possessing the purest of lights– sent by God and His Angels, will be born to an elderly couple, and will be the fall of the Luciferians," Raiu continued, no longer arguing with his brother, and raised her own suspicions.

"This child, you say, will be the fall of our empire?" Lucifer asked her daughter, his black orbs focused on her, "How sure are you, my daughter?"

"Very sure, Papa. That's why Masamune and myself have been arguing what best to do," Raiu replied, undeterred by the sinister tone in her father's voice. She was used to this darkness in her father and she knew she possessed the same darkness as well.

"Masamune, what have you discussed with Raiu?"

"Papa," Masamune started, "Allow us to ascend to Mother Earth and participate in this child's life," he continued, watching his father's reactions closely.

"When he reaches the age of fifteen, Papa," Raiu, looking at her brother and then her father, "We will corrupt his light,"

"What do you hope to achieve?" Lucifer drawled, he had an inkling his children would do this.

"That he fall in love with either one of us, Papa, and consume his light for our empire's gain," Masamune finished, "God's angels would not be able to do anything to stop us once he has fallen for us,"

"At what risks?" Lucifer asked again, knowing the cunning God, he knew the old man had some tricks up his sleeve.

"We might be found, Papa, and it would raise suspicion if the two of us suddenly appear out of nowhere," Raiu answered, she held her hand out to her brother who took it and gave it a squeeze, "We need to be born to the upper world, as humanly as possible, and…"

"And what?" Lucifer was now leaning forward, he didn't quite like the sound of where this plan was going.

"At the risk of losing our memories, Papa. Ascension to Mother Earth will injure us gravely and we will be exposed raw to the humans. However, if our lights, our essences be cast into human bodies, we won't be injured at all but the risk of losing our memories is great," Masamune continued.

"I have in my presence the Book of Deities, Papa. Stolen from an angel who was charged to carry it. I am sure I can at least contain our memories in a safe lock inside our minds but it requires a time trigger," Raiu answered, hesitantly. The tone did not escape Lucifer's sharp hearing.

"No," was his answer.

"Papa! If we don't, we stand to lose all that we have worked for! The Apocalypse is still very far away but this child, in just a matter of years will be able to infiltrate our empire and wipe us all out once his powers awaken! We _need_ to corrupt him before he regained his powers!" Raiu argued, heatedly.

"My answer is still no," Lucifer answered coldly, his eyes pinning her daughter until she clammed shut and looked away, anger swirling in her eyes, "I will not lose either of you! The only children that ever mattered to me!"

"Father," Masamune interrupted, he never addressed his papa as father unless it was serious, "Father, I agree with my sister. The risk is great and I know you do not want to lose us, but I have faith in my sister's ability as the High Priestess. This process… needs a time trigger. Our powers and our memories will be unlocked in eighteen years. This child will be fifteen then. If we turn Father Time's clock correctly, we will be born three years before he does,"

"Masamune," Lucifer started, turning his black orbs towards his son, his brows deepening in a frown, "What if you went wrong? What if your powers do not unlock? You will be human and die a human!"

"Father, have faith in us," Masamune begged in a quiet tone, "We cannot lose to the angels, not after what they have done to us," the anger in that tone spoke volumes of the corruption of the angels. He still had a score to settle with them, Masamune groused.

"Then so be it. High Priestess, you have my permission. Prepare your chambers," Lucifer took a deep breath and exhaled before executing his decree.

He stood and as he did so, bid his children to him. He held out his hand and in a swirling cloud of black smoke, fashioned two identical rings in the palm of his hand. The rings, both gold, with identical blood rubies adorning their crowns seemed to pulsate with life. Masamune and Raiu took their rings and put them on, wondering what it was for.

"These rings, bear my crest, it will remind you of your heritage once you have reached your trigger year. It will be bound to your souls and when time comes, it will appear from here," Lucifer said, putting a palm over his black heart.

In an act completely unlike the Devil, he pressed a kiss on both his children's forehead and whispered safe journey to them. For all of God's humdrum preaching about how he had sinned against heaven and casted out along with the other Fallen Ones, his children was the best gift he could ever asked for. Yes, God had limited his powers and had cut off his wings but God did not take away his ability to breed. He had bred and raised two of the most powerful beings, his secret weapons, and had kept them away from God's little angelus spies.

_Like any proud father, he gave his children his final embrace before he let them go venturing into an unknown world. Masamune and Raiu bowed low, their right hands clasped in a fist above their hearts, pledged their loyalty to the Lord Satan and their father, before they straightened, turned around and walked away towards the High Priestess chambers._

_Mother Earth was waiting for them. _


	2. Chapter 2: Incantations of the Fallen

P/s: Disclaimer - I still don't own Junjou or SIH! I wish!

P/s: I'm in the middle of a drama production so my updates will be veeeeerry spaced out between weeks. Much apologies, I only have so much time in my hands and I want to produce quality work, not shitty ones. I am much humbled for the sudden favs and follows and alerts this story has generated. I promise I will not do (as my favourite editor says) a half-assed job out of it! Ja!

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_**Chapter 2: Incantations of the Fallen**_

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"_The fiend with all his comrades_

_Fell then from heaven above._

_Through as long as three nights and days,_

_The angels from heaven into hell;_

_And them all, the Lord transformed to devils,_

_Because they, his deed and word_

_Would not revere."_

_-Caedmon, Creation: The Fall of the Rebel Angels (c. A.D. 670)_

Black cloth swished about their ankles, trailing behind them on the floor in lengths. The ceremonial robes; pitch black with gold trimmings in color; black the color of darkness and gold, the symbol of the royal court of Hell; were made from the softest, most velvety material; _the feathers of Lucifer's own wings_. Stripped strand by painful strand; each feather from the accursed wings that had been cut off by God as a symbol of Lucifer's fall from Heaven's grace; were bound and braided, knitted and sewn together by the souls of the damned that dwell in the pits of Hell. Oversaw by Lucifer himself, and his imperial denizens of the royal court, these poor souls poured their blood, their angst, their cries, their woes, their pains and their curses into the making of the robes; rendering these robes, the most unholy of relics of the royal court of Hell.

The procession commenced in a slow, meditative movement towards the High Priestess chambers. The dark twins, as oft do the Devil's spawns be called despite their one year difference in birth, were clad in their father's wings, the heathenish ceremonial robes blessed, if blessed could be called cursed, with the symbol of the inverted pentagram sewn onto each hoods. The hoods were pulled down low over their eyes and with each step they took; one can only see their lips moving in synchronization with the rest of imperial entourage, chanting in unison: "_Tet, Rag, Ram, Mat, On_". The chanting was as old as age. In its irony; and a distorted twist of history, it was a protective chant against evil intentions, but underneath its core, it was the calling of the elemental spirits of Mother Earth: earth, air, fire, water, light.

Lucifer trailed a little behind his children but in his wake, his prime ministers – his old friends, fallen angels alike, accursed by God and his estranged brothers – followed in his footsteps. Behind him, to his right, cloaked in similar robes, were Beelzebub, Leviathan and Asmodeus and to his left, Astaroth, Behemoth and Belial. All the men, as they revel in their abilities to cloak their true natures in human façade, were dangerously, _terrifyingly_ beautiful. They had muscular physiques, tall and lean; mirroring Lucifer himself although he is the most beautiful of them all; flowing dark hair to their hips, some black, some blue, others brown; tied into ponytails, their skins as pale as snow, their lips as red as blood but their _eyes_… A mere glance by any unfortunate man or woman, onto their pitch black eyes – and the fire that burned within – will quell any thought of possible acts of humanity. Their lips moved in synchronization, chanting the protective words against the harm that had been done onto them; a chant against the corrupted angels of God.

Around them, the chants were paralleled by the Fallen Hymn; a hauntingly beautiful song detailing the fall of the angels, in a series of wars against the Heavens, and in a bitter twist of Fate, betrayed by everything that they had thought was the embodiment of good. They had turned their backs on Heaven and in their anguish; they had railed against God and promised no good deed will they ever do again if all that was good was just for show. Priests; numbered to ten, in dark blue robes – less royal but held the authority of the Black Church – preceded the twins, in their hands were lit candles made from the fat of dead men who hung in the gallows for murder, their wicks from the hair of babes who died in childbirth. The fat was brewed in pure alcohol and once filtered from other impurities; blood, bits of hair, skin and meat; it was poured into cylindrical steel containers and a braided wick was inserted in the middle of the pungent concoction, as it dried and hardened into candles.

The candles emitted a light blue flame, and if one watched closely enough despite the movements, the flames stayed erected and did not sway. The smoke was grey, paling into a dull white as it carbonized into the air. Along the walkway towards the High Priestess Chambers, light blue fires were lit on top of erected pillars carved with imageries of the damned on either side. The fires emitted a strange ethereal glow but no heat came off of them. Instead, the fires were ice cold and if one were to accidentally touched them; their fingers would become frostbitten and will fall off in a matter of minutes. The fires on the bottom most level of hell were these _very_ blue flames, reserved for the most volatile and corrupt of humankind whose hearts in their lifetimes were as cold as the blue fires had been.

They have reached the Chambers and two of the front most priests pushed the solid oak double doors open. The double doors, as high as the ceiling, groaned and creaked under its own weight. The High Priestess reserved the Chambers for the most powerful of incantations. The walls that decorated the Chambers were made out of mosaic, and like the Fallen Hymn, it detailed the fall of Lucifer and his fellow comrades from Heaven's grace. The ceiling had been enchanted by some of Hell's most potent High Priestesses before Raiu. It reflected parts of the Universe; the position of the stars of the Zodiacs, the planets in the solar system, the Black Hole, trails of the stars; forever shifting views, giving the reigning Priestess the knowledge of the ages long forgotten.

The procession stopped in the middle of the circular chamber, forming two circles and facing inwards towards a pillar erected in the middle of the chamber. The white marble pillar was engraved with imageries of the tortured damned and was about waist high with a flat circular disc balanced on top of it. On this disc, was the Hand of Glory; cut off two millennia ago by Raiu herself when she was the apprentice of the High Priestess before her. Raiu had emerged from the pits of Hell, onto Mother Earth, in a cloud of black smoke and fire. She had to endure the searing pain that was caused by being an unholy demon venturing onto Mother Earth without her permission.

She had entered the gallows when the sun was high in the sky, and chose a hanged felon, one who had sodomized, raped and murdered innocent children. She had cut off his right hand with a ceremonial knife, all the while shaking in pain, a passage rite she must withstand. She had torn a strip of the hanged man's burial shroud and had rung the hand dry of any remaining blood. She placed the hand in an earthenware pot, the clothes on her back now burnt by the sun shining above her head, blackening her skin and exposing raw flesh. With bloody red tears streaming down her half-human eyes, she filled the jar with salt, saltpeter, black pepper and all manner of herbs and spices, which were earlier grinded into fine powder to marinate the hand.

She had taken it back with her to Hell, teleporting with a lot of difficulty, her flesh torn, burnt, exposed bloodied and raw. She had been near unconsciousness but she needed to complete now the dark ritual of using the hand for other more sinister, diabolical means. She had added the Sands of Time, taken from Father Time with much difficulty, into the jar allowing her to enter the sleep of humans, demons and angels alike. She had added the essences of Mother Earth; soil from the richest mineral grounds from Iceland's volcanoes, an enchanted bottle containing the rogue tornadoes of the desert, fire from Hell's own pit, water from the freshest spring in the Himalayas mountains and light, from a dying angel's dimming soul; to strengthen her hold on Mother Earth's natural elements and manipulate magic.

The Hand of Glory, marinated and embalmed, became one of her most powerful magical tools. None dared defied her prowess, surpassing even her mentor in excellence. The priests have placed, on entering the Chambers, each of their candles around the Hand, slotting them into their niches on the circular disc and moved outwards to form the outer circle. Raiu and Masamune placed their own black candles on the holders held by the Hand itself. They faced the Hand, their father between them, Raiu to his right and Masamune to his left. The Imperial Fallen Ones, Beelzebub, Leviathan and Asmodeus, stood by Raiu, and Astaroth, Behemoth and Belial stood beside Masamune, closing the inner circle. At once the blue flames came to life, blazing bright, the icy coldness seeping into the black souls that surrounded it.

"By the powers within me, and of my father, Lucifer, known to Heaven and Hell, as Morning Star, Bright Angel, Light Bearer, I invoke thee, the Elementals; Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, of which the universe was created. I call thee by creations, gnomes, salamanders, sylphs and undines; I offer you the Light, the soul of an angel; bow before me, High Priestess of the seven gates of Hell," Raiu casted, her hands moving in the air, drawing the symbols of the elements. The symbols had appeared in thin air and were absorbed by the flames held by the Hand of Glory.

"I pay homage to the North Star, may your light show us our way and guide our immortal souls in our damned path," Raiu bowed to the North, the others, chanting the call of the Elementals, "I pay homage to the South, the East and the West, I invoke thee, Solomon, King of Magi, I invoke thee, appear before me, I call upon thee, I have need of thee, thy knowledge of the power of the universe and the unknown," Raiu casted, her hands moving in the air again, drawing the inverted pentagram and saw it absorbed by the blue flames, "_Tet, Rag, Ram, Mat, On_".

"By all that is unholy, we pledge our black vows against God the creator, who had cast us out of Heaven and into Hell, who had taken away our wings, and left us to burn for eternity for the sins of the corrupted angels He keeps by His side," the High Priestess's voice was now shaking with fury, her hands rose in the air, forming the zodiac stars out of thin air, and saw them absorbed by the flames. The chanting around her became louder, lending her strength. She could feel the powers of her father, Lucifer and of her brother, Masamune, and of the Imperials coursing through her veins. "By Pandaemonium, by Styx, by Acheron, by Phlegethon, by Lethe, by Cocytus, by all that Hell is made of, with this knife, Athame, I offer you my unholy royal blood,"

Raising the ceremonial knife, Athame, Raiu slit the palm of her right hand; black blood oozed out and she held out her hand. Immediately the blue flames leapt towards the precious liquid and from the naked eye, one could see how the flames licked and consumed the blood _greedily_.

It was as though the flames were _alive_.

"And now we wait," Raiu whispered, once she felt the flames were _satiated_.

All eyes turned to watch, as the flames grew larger, dancing almost wildly, and kept on growing. The form of a man had begun to take shape within the flames. As the form began to take substance, it bowed towards the royal family, and Lucifer stepped forth.

"Solomon, my old friend," Lucifer drawled. There was a shadow of a smile on his face.

"Ah, Master Sataniel, it has been a while," the shadow of a man replied, still bowed low.

"I no longer have need of that name, Solomon," Lucifer said in disgust, a reminder of his angel brothers in heaven laughing at his expense flashed across his mind, "Sataniel was my name in Heaven. Trivial matters. I have need of you old friend," Lucifer reiterated and waved his hand towards the spirit.

"My humblest apologies Master… Lucifer," Solomon corrected, his form had begun to look more like a man now, covered in a pale thick blue robe, his face in stages of decay – a result of a pact with the Devil who now owned his soul – his eye sockets empty of their eyes and his toothless mouth grinned in a strangely distorted smile, "What is your request, Master?"

"I believe you have met my Imperials, my Ministers?" Lucifer asked, his hand moved to encompass the beautiful men standing around the circle.

"You graced me with your presences, Master Beelzebub, Master Leviathan, Master Asmodeus, Master Astaroth, Master Behemoth and Master Belial," Solomon bowed low and greeted Hell's Prime Ministers, "Who, may I ask, are these beautiful creations behind you, Master Lucifer?"

"These, Solomon, are my children. Masamune, my Crown Prince and Raiu, my High Priestess," Lucifer introduced, "I need you to transport their souls to Earth. In the form of human babies,"

"Ah, straight to the point as always, Master Lucifer. But…" Solomon frowned, "I need the Book of Deities and this is a very delicate incantation," Solomon cautioned.

With a wave of her hand, Raiu reproduced the Book of Deities and it hovered in the air in front of the once revered King of Israel. He was the most powerful sorcerer, a master of the occults and in his time of reign, he had in his presence The Key of Solomon, the greatest grimoire Old Earth had ever seen. The book contained, in language heavily influenced by astrological and cabalistic doctrines, details of summoning spirits of the Underworld. Lucifer himself had written the book, in return for Solomon's damned immortal soul.

"Step forward, children," Solomon gestured, his white brows furrowed over empty eye sockets as he flipped the pages of the Book of Deities with unseen hands.

Lucifer stepped back and nodded to his children, his heirs lest he decided to retire from Hell and pursue… _no, it would never do to think of a past regret_, he thought, chastising himself. His Imperials and the Black Church priests had stepped back as well, leaving only Raiu and Masamune to face the incarnation of King Solomon. Masamune held out his hand and turned to look his sister in the eye. She nodded, swallowed and held her brother's hand, intertwining their fingers and looked up towards the great sorcerer.

Solomon, satisfied with what he needed, closed the Book of Deities and in a flash of blue flames, it disappeared from thin air. The incarnation of the dead king opened his palms and faced them downwards, one palm each placed on the heads of the dark twins. The blue flames behind him sputtered as a sudden gust of wind blew out of nowhere. Howls of the dead, protests of the sacrilegious and blasphemous ceremony began to heighten into a deafening roar. Lucifer looked towards his children fastidiously, and saw the blue flames emanate a glowing cylindrical instrument that positioned itself between Raiu and Masamune. Only after the bright glow of the instrument dimmed a little did he realize what it was.

"Sands of Time, of Old and New, of Past and Present, of those who still live and those who have died," Solomon began his incantations, "Take the souls of these demons, the spawns of the Devil Lucifer, the Fallen, the Lucern Ferre, and project them to Earth, where in their eighteenth year, their memories would return to them, their call of duty upon them," Solomon continued, in a grave voice. He could feel the heat of the energy emitting from the golden hourglass between the dark twins, "Turn thou thrice, backwards into the past, let their souls form into light! _Tet, Rag, Ram, Mat, On_! May you be protected, children, from demons and angels alike, who seek to undo what hath been bound! By the power of Lucifer, the Fallen, the Lucern Ferre, I beseeched thee Father Time! Bow before God's greatest adversary and do his bidding!"

The wind picked up again and swirled anti-clockwise, forming a compact tornado in the circular chamber, cracking the mosaic paintings on the walls with its violent force. The twins closed their eyes, the heat of their damned souls rising within them, the cold fingers of death creeping into their flesh as their souls began their upward exodus out of their shells. Lucifer could only watch as he saw his son, Masamune first, followed by his daughter, Raiu slowly slid onto their knees; two bright red orbs forming under the palms of the sorcerer who was chanting in concentration. In a matter of seconds the two bodies; began to sway and finally dropped dead onto the hard cold floor. In a blink of an eye, the bodies disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. The two red orbs that contained the souls were now glowing brightly in the sorcerer's hand.

"_HOW DARE YOU!" _boomed a great, monstrous voice, nearly splitting the eardrums of everyone in presence.

The sorcerer faltered a little in his chants, taken by surprise that his act had been caught out. Emerging in a cloud of glittering gold was a man with white flowing hair that reached to his shoulder blades. His golden robe, the colour of the desert sand, glittered even in the dimmed light of the High Priestess Chambers. He was facing Lucifer, his back towards the sorcerer, his eyes glowed an ethereal gold as though in an attempt to instill fear into the Devil himself. _The Devil,_ the lord of terror and of all things that mankind, angels and demons alike feared the most. _How blasphemous!_ Lucifer thought to himself in contempt.

"Father Time," Lucifer drawled, unperturbed by the presence of the Time Keeper, "Good to its see you too,"

"How dare you, Lucifer! Of all the atrocities of heaven and hell, this is by far the worse! How dare you tamper with Time! Do you know the repercussions of your actions?!" Father Time bellowed, angered at the indifferent Lord of Hell, "And you!" Father Time turned around, his long elegant finger pointing towards the incarnation of the sorcerer, "You damned magician! You tampered with me long enough! In life you have caused me chaos, in death you still have not learnt your lesson!"

"I am only abiding my Master," Solomon reiterated, "and you are too late!"

With that said, Solomon casted the last spell and drew the symbol of Mother Earth, of rebirth as well as of the unholy inverted pentagram into the air. Mother Earth glowed in bright green, rebirth glowed in silver and the pentagram glowed black with its edges ringed in red. He waved his hands and the red orbs floated towards the symbols, realigning the lines to form the symbol of the endless cycle of life before the blue flames leapt up to consume the golden symbol.

"_BY THE SANDS OF TIME, I CURSE YOU! SEPARATE THOU FROM THY SIBLING! MAY THY LIVES SUFFER AS THOU HAVE VOWED TO MAKE SUFFERINGS FOR THOSE YOU SEEK TO DESTROY!" _

"_NO!" _cried Lucifer and Solomon simultaneously.

Father Time's spell was casted before the flames had completely consumed the golden symbol. The symbol broke in two and completely disappeared into the flames. The damage had been done. The demons and devils glared venomously at the slowly disappearing figure of Father Time. His form – a satisfied arrogant smile plastered to his face – was vanishing, in his hand, safely tucked was the Hour Glass of the Sands of Time.

"Onto you, Solomon, thou will be charged for tampering with Time, for eighteen years thou can never use thy powers and onto thou, Lucifer, thou cannot seek thy children until the day thou sayest they will turn their eighteenth year, or they will perish, as _humans_, in a terrible death!"

The last curse had rung eerily in a silent ghostly whisper in the now empty Chamber. Lucifer gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing red from anger, his human façade gone. In its place was the Devil himself, the beast of Hell, ruler of the Underworld. He was deprived of his children for eighteen long years. _No matter. I have survived millennia after millennia and I will survive a mere few years, _he thought ferociously_._ He looked up into the enchanted ceiling and cursed a roar against Heaven for taking away once again what was rightfully his.

Turning on his hoofs, he waved a hand, dismissing the petrified, and now useless, sorcerer who bowed low and had disappeared soon after. His Imperial demons, now in their true forms as well, malicious beings with the intent to kill, maim and torture, left the High Priestess Chambers with him and they galloped across the castle terrains and the rivers Styx, Acheron, Phlegethon, Cocytus and Lethe, in their bestial forms and in all their furies towards Pandaemonium, the capital city of Hell, located on the deepest pits of Hell.

_He thinks he is that smart, eh,_ Lucifer thought furiously of Father Time, _he thinks to thwart my plans and take my children away from me! I still have a few tricks up my sleeve as well!_


	3. Chapter 3: Children, Our Pride and Joy

A/N: My thoughts are rampaging for this story to be written down! Sorry if the characters at the moment seemed OOC to y'all but this is what fanfiction is for. I'm still working on the background bits (i.e. between Hell and Heaven) and it won't be until Chapter 5 or Chapter 6 that we will finally see our pairings in Earth Time.**_ Word of caution though, please do not attempt any incantations or spells in this fic_ **(:p) Though I use them for the sole purpose of adding spice to my literature, restrain must be exercised in trying to use them for real. I shall deny all responsibilities if it backfires on you. You have been warned! (:p) Enjoy! Reviews and critics welcomed especially since I have a tendency to let my imagination run away with me!

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**Chapter 3: Children, Our Pride and Joy**

_Pandaemonium._

Capital City of Hell.

And Lord Satan was furious beyond even his ability to spawn anger.

Father Time had casted a curse that broke the Circle of Life symbol, assuring that his son and daughter will be separated into two different wombs and not the twins he had hoped for them to be. In his High Council Chamber, he sat on his throne, his denizens of the royal court bowing before him. The sight of the mighty Devil; in his flaming red skin, heathen hooves, sharp ram-like horns, claws that bend like talons, black midnight eyes, and a mouth filled with jagged, serrated fangs; was the horror of every babe born to mankind. His court had worshipped him and was in awe of the magnificent celestial being and his unsurpassable powers.

"_Let all of Hell be agreed_," Lucifer began, his voice venomous in its silky tone; a heavy hush fell on his court as they awaited his proclamation, "THAT THIS IS WAR! Heaven shall _rue_ the day they casted us out! Heaven shall pay for _their_ sins! My loyal subjects, we have eighteen years to _prepare_ for the battle! I will never, _NEVER_ let God take away our lives as He had done at the beginning of time! _He will regret_ _this_!" Lucifer announced in an ancient voice so strong, turning his full supremacy on; his voice heavy and filled with anger, and betrayal. His court exploded in a cacophony of cheers and patriotic angst against heaven.

Lucifer sat back in his throne; his claws sinking their way into the armrests, his body bent forward as he watched the court clang their weapons against their shields and cheering him on. A bitter smile came to his face; in a last whisper before he got up to join the ritual preparations to embalm the bodies of his children in the deepest pits of Hell, he said to himself; knowing there was only one other celestial being who could hear him when he had allowed it, "He… He will regret taking my children away from me…" Lucifer closed his eyes and opened his inner heart, one that he had kept closed and chained for eons, and cast a call into the heavens,_ "You will regret… Father… Do you hear me? You will regret this, Father…"_

Lucifer stood and bowed to his court, he will live and die for them. He had decreed millenniums ago that he will never let God and his brothers touch any of his demons. A flash of blue eyes came to mind, a flash of beautiful bright blue eyes, the eyes of his only sister, the beautiful Gabriel, the only one who he thought he could run to when his brothers bullied him. At last, she had betrayed him too. _No, I will not dwell in the past_! Lucifer berated himself arrogantly, _I am stronger than all of them combined, and they will regret this!_

Lucifer exited the imperial court with his royal entourage on tow. He spoke quietly to Beelzebub, his closest and most trusted friend, and told him to inform the others to gather their best subordinates. He still had Old Magick within him; and he knew his children will need sentries when they grew up to cover them. Given Father Time's unexpected appearance, he knew the old bastard will run sniveling to God and tell on him.

"Are you sure, Lucifer?" Beelzebub asked, apprehension in his loathsome eyes, "You have not used Old Magick in such a long – I mean _long_ – time. It will be an unstable power,"

"You underestimate me my old friend. _How have I kept my children hidden from God all these times?_" Lucifer eyed his Prime Minister snidely, cunning and anger dancing his eyes.

"Ah… I see," Beelzebub responded, understanding dawning in his pitch black eyes, "I shall inform the other Ministers then. We will gather our best sentries, Lucifer, old friend, but for now, let us attend to the bodies of your royal children,"

Down long winding staircases lit by torches after torches of blue flames; Lucifer and his royal entourage walked on, hoods over their heads, their forms now returning to their human illusions. Beautifully build men, in a solemn and quiet parade, entered the embalming chamber underneath Pandaemonium's Royal Castle. Two black wooded mahogany coffins were suspended center stage over a strangely glowing black and red pentagram. Lucifer walked towards the coffins, knowing that in them, lying in perpetual peace until the time came to regain these bodies; was his children. Covered in their specially designed ceremonial robes, protecting them from harm, Masamune's and Raiu's adult forms were porcelain-pale and unmoving, their arms crossed above their black hearts.

Lucifer stood in the middle of the suspended coffins, his imperial court forming a circle around the outer circle, he placed both his hands above each of his children's heads; his ministers raising theirs into the heavens, and he threw a final spell to protect them, casting the shape of the inverted pentagram over their heads.

"_Dragon brave and Dragon wise; let nothing escape your eyes.  
__I summon you from your hidden lair, my children, Masamune and Raiu, are entrusted to your care.  
__Permit no harm to come to my children within your sight, in your presence let all harm take flight.  
__No baneful creature born of flesh or spirit; may touch my children nor even come near it.  
__Let those that would bring harm, be filled with fright and alarm!"_

* * *

God looked up from his favorite literature past time and his eyes had become unfocused. It had been years since he had heard _that_ voice; that beautiful, melodic voice that had once been the envy of all the angels in heaven. His most powerful creation – who possessed the ability to manipulate emotions and make other creations do his bidding; _Sataniel_ had finally spoken to him. In fact, it had been thousands of years since he had heard… his _youngest son_'s voice. He sighed; one could not undo what one had already decreed. Closing his book, he called upon his Children of Heaven and waited as they appeared one by one into his chambers.

Michael – _The first born of the Archangels, his name bearing that of 'the Divine, close to God', the epitome of strength, courage and the protector of all archangels and mankind._

Raphael – _The second son, his name bearing that of 'The Healer', he possessed the ability to heal what spiritual damage had been done unto angels, humans and animals alike._

Gabriel – _The only daughter, bearing the title 'Strength of God', she is God's messenger on Mother Earth, carrying with her the burdens of prophecies and Fate of the Future._

Uriel – _The third son, 'The Fire of God', he carries with him wisdom, intellectual practicalities and knowledge of alchemy and gifted with The Sight, to oversee the Future._

Chamuel – _The fourth son, the 'Angel of Love', he is a cherub of sorts, filling mankind's despair with thoughts of love and healing them through renewed vows with new hearts, giving them peace and hope for the future._

Jophiel – _The fifth son, "The Beauty of God", a being so talented and so creative, he is the divine Archangel of art and beauty. He provides visions of love and beauty to mankind in need of spiritual restoration._

Raguel – _The sixth son, "Angel of Justice and Fairness", he seeks justice and is fair to all beings, celestials or humans. __He watches over them to make sure they're working well together in a harmonious and orderly fashion according to the Divine order._

God watched as his sons and daughter emerged one by one onto their designated celestial star carvings etched into the floor of his divine chambers. Only one carving remained empty, the morning star – _for_ _his fallen son, Sataniel…_ Shaking his head away from memories long past, he continued watching his children appear and waited as they bowed and greeted one another. His boys were beautiful young men, very god-like, with sparkling white wings adorning their backs. He watched as his graceful daughter's wings slowly folded into her back, neatly tucked behind her. Being sensitive, Gabriel looked up and saw the sadness in her father's eyes.

"What is it Father? Why have you called us out of our patrols?" Gabriel asked softly, her bright blue eyes eyeing her father cautiously. Her brothers had ceased their conversations, turning their attentions to the celestial being that was their father.

"Sataniel…" God whispered, quietly, "He spoke at last,"

"What did the ungrateful boy say to you, father? Tell me! I will rip him to shreds and feed his black heart to his demon dogs!" Michael interrupted, anger boiling into the surface.

"Brother, stop it! You know as we all do, we are all equally at fault when it comes to Sataniel's disgrace!" Raguel, his personality as the angel of justice and fairness, cut in.

"Don't you dare side with him, Raguel! He started it!" Michael chimed angrily.

"ENOUGH! Michael. _Enough_." God finally stood. His children bowed before him. This was a being they could not afford to offend.

"Father, what did Sataniel say to you?" Chamuel, the angel of love, softly inquired, trying to dissipate the tension in the air. Michael can be such a bully sometimes, he thought unhappily; unfortunately it is in his nature to be the protector – and the grouch of the family.

Before God could respond, he turned to his right; a being was entering his chambers, clearly uninvited but he sensed dreading news. In a magnificent show of sparkling golden and silver sands that formed a small tornado, Father Time, in his golden robes; had appeared before them. He bowed low to the audience before him, addressing each of them with reverence. In an impatient scoff at being interrupted, God eyed the beautiful man in front of him now.

"Father Time," God said quietly, although there was a bite in his voice.

"My Lord, our Mighty God," Father Time began, bowing low.

"Cut to the chase, what is it?" God interrupted now.

Father Time straightened. His features were hard. He knew God had little access to the workings of Hell as Lucifer had somehow found a way to block God's vision of everything, in and around the Universe. He sighed, pulled himself together and made his way to kneel in front of his Creator. God nodded and Father Time braced himself for the painful pull of his memories being drawn out of him. God placed both his hands inches above Father Time's head and closed his eyes. Within seconds, he opened them again. He had pulled the strings of memories out into the chamber and casted them in the middle of the room. His children, his Archangels, watched in awe as they saw what had transpired just moments ago in the Hell's High Priestess Chambers.

Father Time collapsed in a heap just as the memories rushed back into his head. There were whispers around him as the Archangels discussed their new found knowledge. He looked up and slowly came to his feet. As though they had just noticed he was there, the Archangels ceased their discussions and silence reigned once more. Father Time stepped away from God and stood to his right, his head bowed low, his usually composed – almost arrogant features – a mask of pain. He palmed his head in both hands, trying in vain to subdue the throbbing pain the memory snatching spell had done to him.

"It wasn't complete, what truly happened down there?" Uriel asked, his curiosity overcoming his need to stay silent and wait for God's announcement.

"Sata- Lucifer, he… he has two children. A son and daughter," shocked gasps echoed through the Chamber; only God remained impassive and silent, "My Lord, he found out about the Child of Light and had sent his children after the child,"

"As I suspected. When Raziel came back empty handed, I knew he had lost the Book of Deities," God said in a quiet voice. He had punished Raziel for his incompetence. He knew the book had fallen into the demon world, "How did Satani- Lucifer procured two children? Are they his own flesh and blood?"

"Looking back at his reactions when I broke the symbol of the circle of life, I believed that is indeed the truth, My Lord," Father Time mused, his features darkened.

"Father, if Sataniel found out about the Child, and if he succeeded in corrupting him, we will lose all hopes of eradicating his army," Michael interrupted ready to declare war on Hell; his anger at his youngest brother never far from the surface.

"I wished I had created you with empathy, Michael, you are too brash," God chided softly, stopping anymore protests or suggestions from his eldest born, "But what has been done, cannot be undone. Father Time,"

"Yes, My Lord?"

"How long do we have?"

"Eighteen years, My Lord. Lucifer's children are in bearing as we speak, they will be born into the world soon. I have done my best, My Lord," Father Time answered quietly. The silence that filled the chamber was deafening.

"Then eighteen years it is. Knowing Lucifer, my dear fallen son, he will send sentries to watch over the children. We will do the same as well," God finally decreed, nodding his head. What a mess this issue had been, "Father Time, we have need of your Sands of Time, to transport our angels to Earth,"

"_Father, let me ascend!"_

"_No, let me ascend!"_

His children, knowing the great task at hand and the risks that lay before them, offered their services to their Father, their Lord, their God, their Creator. However, as cunning and manipulative God is, he is also fair and just. He held up his hands, halting anymore votes of service and shook his head. Lucifer will not send his prime ministers, for they have a task to complete; as so do his children.

"No, my children, that is enough. I will not risk any of you. Lucifer has been forbidden to ascend to Mother Earth and in all fairness; I am forbidding you as well. As Lucifer's prime ministers have to run Hell's administrations, so do you. You have Heaven and Earth to look after. Scout your best subordinate angels and bring them to me," With their right hands clutched to their chests, the Archangels, powerless to say anything against their father's will once he had decreed something; returned to their stations, scouting their best subordinates to be sent to Earth to look after the Child of Light.

_War on Earth was imminent and Time was ticking away._


	4. Chapter 4: On Wings of The Fallen

**A/N: This is turning into a crossover of massive proportions. I had so much fun cooking up these characters for our beloved Junjou and Sekai men. It's just crazy. Can you guess who're the angels and who're the demons? Anyway, enjoy! Don't sue my OOC-ness. Usual disclaimers.**

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**Chapter 4: On Wings of the Fallen**

"Well? Have you chosen them? Time is running out," Lucifer demanded. He had been pacing back and forth in his throne room in Pandaemonium Royal Castle of the Underworld and Hell. His attention was now on the forms of his six Ministers, his soldiers and brothers-at-arms.

"Yes, Yes, Lucifer, hold your horses," Beelzebub, his fellow fallen angel and his best friend, said with a patience unbeknownst to others. He had patience all right, the patience to wait and strike at the most painful of times. He could lie in quietly and wait for eons if he wanted to.

"Well? Show them to me!" Lucifer ordered, his voice harsh as he took his seat on the throne impatiently.

One by one, the lesser-fallen angels appeared in tiny black orbs from the hands of the Ministers, souls of the damned, the soldiers who had followed them to hell; the right hands of the Ministers. The first black orb morphed into the shape of a man, of similar height and build to his own son, long dark brown hair cascading past his waist, pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck, elfish-like ears sharpen to a point and horns on his forehead, curling backwards in a miniature crescent scythe. His eyes, black as any of the other demons lowered themselves, his right fist above his heart, in the presence of his King, Lucifer the Fallen.

Another followed suit and another until six men stood in front of Lucifer. The great Devil knew who these men-like demons were. He had seen them at arms; he had been there and watched them fight in synchronization with their Masters in the middle of the War that had fell upon them eons ago. He knew the capabilities of these warriors, and he knew his Ministers had both chosen well and had risked themselves without their shadows present. Shadows, yes, the Shadow Warriors of the Underworld; strength, cunning and ferocity were their fortes. They moved in sync with their Masters, always watching from the shadows, always following, always loyal.

The second orb had morphed next to the first one and was of similar build. Where the first demon had a stony expression and did not show any expressions at all, this demon had an eerie smile plastered on his face, always present, baring a set of interesting fangs that had done its fair share of chomping. Beelzebub patted the head of his demon as he watched Asmodeus's demon take its form. He had always admired Asmodeus's version of evil. None of that angry vicious look most had, Asmodeus's always had a sort of cheerful bit to killing and maiming, which made the demon more frightening.

The third and fourth orbs, morphed into smaller build men. The former belonged to Leviathan, sprouting similar long black-blue hair like his Master and the latter, belonged to Astaroth; also similar in feature to his Master. Long brown hair flowed down his back. Their frames were shorter, smaller than the first two but they possessed the intellects of more than most smarter demons in the realm of the Underworld and possessed the cunnings of their Masters. The final two demons appeared; the nasty blonde-haired chibi-demon that was always terrorizing other demons belonged to Belial and the eccentric silver-haired demon that had a fondness for cigarettes and writing, belonged to Behemoth.

All six men followed and raised their fists to their hearts and lowered their heads. They had been summoned by their Masters to do the biddings of their King, Lucifer the Fallen. They wore ceremonial robes, ruby red and gold in colour with the unholy icon of the inverted pentagram sewn into their hoods; their horns peeping slightly from underneath the heavy cloaks.

"Are you ready my children?" Lucifer breathed softly as he opened his hands towards them.

"Yes, my lord!" was the only chorused response Lucifer was given and he closed his eyes and unleashed the power and strength he had kept hidden and built up into a roaring fire of vengeance.

"Unto Mother Earth, you shall travel, into the wombs of women you shall be born, of times different from the other, and when hence forth the time arrives for you to do your duties, awaken the demons inside of you!" Lucifer began his chanting, his voice reverberated with unconditional power, his hands forming a ball of flame, growing ever bigger as the seconds ticked by, "My children, my demons, protect and be protected, you carry the burden of our empire! Into the flames of life do you enter, into the world of men will you exist, until the day should you be awaken into your powers!"

The imperial denizens of Hell's court held their chanting, their hands opened towards Lucifer, adding and feeding the power that continued growing until the bright ball of flame was now the size of a typical door. One by one the Shadow Warriors walked into the door after their final bows to their Master. As the last one entered, the flame blew out in a cloud of black smoke. Lucifer breathed heavily, his heart racing. He had not felt that surge of powers for centuries and the feeling he had gotten from it was beyond anything he had remembered. He waved his hand as he slumped back down onto his throne, his fingers still tingling with the after effects of unleashing his true potential. His Ministers bowed to him one by one and exited the throne room to attend to their duties. They still have to mind the duties of a sentinel over their Shadows Warriors.

_Eighteen years. I only have to wait for eighteen years_, Lucifer thought darkly.

* * *

A twinge of power reverberated through the air in Heaven. God and his children looked around; caught by surprise at the wrath they had felt in the air. There could only be one explanation to this.

"Sataniel…" God whispered, "What have you done?"

"His powers, Father," Gabriel quietly said, her heart squeezing in sadness at the thought of her youngest brother, "his powers have grown if we could feel it all the way from up here,"

"Waste no more time, Father! He has taken a step forward!" Michael said, his voice strong like iron, "we need to send our sentries to Earth now!"

With that God nodded and took a deep breath. What had been done, could not be undone, that was his fatal decree eons ago when he casted his youngest and most beloved son out of the House of God. One could choose from so many roads leading to different destinies but Sataniel… No… _Lucifer_… had chosen his path and had never once turned back. He had to live with that his whole entire existence.

He clasped both hands together and bowed his head, his remaining children replicating his actions. From the quiet hum of the Heaven Hymn, six silver orbs formed themselves in front of the chosen Angels. Wings unfurling, human-like lesser angels awoke from their slumber. Once again their Masters had called them to arms. Stepping out into the light, silver warrior braces clad their forearms, their feet encased in similar material, riding up to their shins, white tunic adorned their bodies and white tights enclosed their legs. On their hips hung the Heaven Belts, their bows and arrows, swords and daggers hung to their sides. A silver circlet adorned their foreheads, the symbol of Heaven.

The first angel was small in frame, lithe in movement, raven-haired with striking blue eyes and he bowed in God's presence. The second angel, not much taller than the first, possessed silver-hair and amethyst-colored eyes, the only lady of the sentinel team, followed suite, bowing as well. The third angel, taller in frame, a beautifully etched face so Prince-like sparkled and bowed low, giving his respects. The fourth came forward and bowed as well, taller than the others, if any angel could be any taller, with a face so innocent and pure, and with a heart of gold, always helping others in need. The fifth angel was quieter, smaller with brown hair and sparkling, emerald, green eyes. The last angel, slightly older than the others with black hair and dark eyes, reflected intelligence in his composure. Both bowed to their God.

"Ah… Children of Heaven, you have been called once again to fulfill your duties. I believe the nature of this task has been explained to you by your betters?" God implored. The angels straightened their backs, their faces beautiful and their characters even more so. A curt nod and a chorused response of 'Yes, my Lord' was all God had received.

"Very well then, we shall proceed," God embellished his scepter and stood proudly. He opened his arms wide and beckoned the powers within and beyond him to come to him. "Children of Heaven, angels of might, pure and innocent, you will take flight. Into Mother Earth, my friend, my companion, you shall be born, among the humans. When the time arrives, by the Sands of Time, in the eighteenth year of the Devil's birth, I released your true forms and take your light. Undo that which had been done, save Mother Earth from ultimate destruction,"

A bright white light glowed in the middle of the room, heads bowed and hands clasped, chants and hymns reverberated in the air of the Holy Chamber and one by one the lesser angels bowed to God and took their leave. One by one stepped into the light, brighter than the sun, cooler than its fire. Down, down, down they fell into Mother Earth, morphing into balls of tiny silver orbs into the bodies of human women.

Down in Mother Earth, distorted by Time, years separating their births, the minds of the children of Heaven and Hell were encased in a blanket of the Forgotten Sheath. They have lost knowledge of their previous lives, only to be awakened when the time had come to claim them once more. As they lie in slumber in their mothers' wombs, both Heaven and Hell held their breaths, both could not foresee what will happen in the future. Their sights were interfered by the powers of the enraged Sister Fates.

"Sisters…" The first Oracle of the Past whispered. She was one of the Fates, "It has been set into motion,"

"There is nothing we can do. What had been done, cannot be undone," the second Oracle of the Present whispered to her sister, "We can only watch and let them choose,"

"I foresee multiple future threads, sisters," the third Oracle of the Future, whispered after a long silence, "And I cannot safely say which thread they will choose,"

"What were Heaven and Hell thinking, sending the demons and angels to Mother Earth," the Past Oracle said, her mind reeling with altered pasts because of these decrees, angered at the damage that had been done to so many past memories.

"What else, dear sister, the ultimate destruction of either, they never changed. Not in a millennia," the Present Oracle replied, shaking her head as she watched over the choices mankind was doing in the present time.

"I see only _one_ certain thing, sisters… the Shadow of Pain, attracted by the presences of the angels and demons who have ascended to Mother Earth. She is not happy, she has called her brethren to aid her and to punish both Heaven and Earth for sending her these children without her permission. What will the Pain do, I gather," the Future Oracle said, her voice melodic, caught in the throes of a permanent sight.

The Sister Fates, the Oracles of all worlds, blind in their eyes but gifted with the Sight of past, present and multiple futures refused to show neither Heaven nor Hell, the plight of the children. In riddles, they had claimed, neither Heaven nor Hell will be happy but it all hangs on what the children will ultimately choose for themselves in the end that will determine the Fates of both Light and Darkness.

"As Heaven and Hell had decreed, and as God and Satan had interfered with the workings of Fates and Time, we take what had been freely given to you until the day these children return to their natural worlds! Be gone thy sight from thy eyes, for no longer you will be able to interfere in our workings!" the three Sisters casted their spells, a spell so ancient and strong and neither Heaven nor Hell could breach.

* * *

_They could not do anything now but watch._

_And wait._

_Will they survive the mortal world?_

_Will Heaven come out victorious once more?_

_Or has Hell finally turned the table this time? _


	5. Chapter 5: Wheels of Fate

**A/N: Sorry this took a while. Enjoy! Usual Disclaimers! Much love~**

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**Chapter 5: Beginnings of the Wheels of Fate**

_Child of Light, 12__th__ Year of Birth._

Walking down the hallway in a crisp and freshly ironed uniform, a pair of small feet cladded in black shoes was making their way around unfamiliar territory for the first time, behind numerous other pairs of feet cladded similarly in shiny black shoes. Bright, excited emerald eyes peered around timidly, taking in the high pillars, the white-painted walls, the high ceilings, the chatter of a myriad of voices around him, the noticeboards adorning the walls filled with colourful flyers of all manner of clubs and organizations.

"Okay freshies, make a bee line for the hall to the morning assembly. You will have orientation right after," a clear high voice could be heard loud and sharp over the excited chatter around him.

As those bright green eyes watched, the hall loomed closer, awnings attached to its roof and the roofs of two other buildings adjacent to it to shade the Sakura trees in full bloom in its front yard. The soft petals fluttered in a slight morning breeze and he caught himself gazing after them. A slight bump and small shove after, he hurried forward, calling a meek apology to the person standing behind him. An awkward laughter accompanied him.

_High school. Who would have thought? _

First day and already he had embarrassed himself. Hurrying to catch the line in front of him, he noticed that there were rows of students who were cladded in similar black uniforms already waiting in the hall. The teacher in charge of them ushered them forward in a neat straight pile. Slowly heads began to turn towards them, eyes watching their every move, whispers could be heard, some looked smug, others disinterested, most squealed at the shorter of the freshmen. They soon came to a stop in the middle of the hall, sandwiched on both sides by seniors.

A sharp screech of the microphone ceased all manner of talking. Everyone stood in attention as the Principal came forward to address the new school year and ultimately the new batch of students who had just joined the institution. It was another twenty minutes of do's and don'ts and by the thirtieth minute, most of the students were already fidgety.

"So, to wrap things up, I bid you a Happy New Year and work hard! Strive to make our school proud!" said an enthusiastic elderly man in possibly his fifties, as students cheered and clapped; more because the assembly was now over and they could finally go to class.

The teachers were dismissed first and hurriedly left the hall towards their main staffrooms; eager to down their first cup of coffee for the day. The seniors were allowed to leave next, bowing in unison before turning on their heels and streaming out of the hall in a uniformed straight line towards their homerooms. They were followed in similar fashion by the rest of the juniors. As the emerald-eyed teen watched around in fascination at so many new faces, his eyes caught sight of an unusually tall, lanky boy, seemingly disinterested in the world around him. While the others were chatting, he seemed unfazed and continued walking along, as though he was… _bored_? The boy's eyes followed the raven-haired boy with a strangely ignited curiosity; and the boy, as though sensing that someone was watching him, turned.

_For a moment, there was… a spark? A twinkle in the other boy's eye?_ Or maybe it was just the lighting. Caught red-handed staring at the handsome senior, the emerald irises dilated in shock and quickly averted their gazes. _Why_? Why is his heart thumping abnormally? He blinked rapidly to compose himself, feeling the heat creeping into his face and burning his ears red. Cautiously turning his head again, he was faced with a strange mix of disappointment. The boy he had been watching had disappeared in the throng of students.

_Amber? Hazel? Liquid gold? What were the colors of his eyes? And what's with his expression? It was so… stoic? Or even bordering on… boredom? Wait… Why do I care?_

Unwittingly, he found himself thinking of the boy throughout the rest of the day. His mind barely registered where he was and he absentmindedly scribbled notes on his orientation packs. The prefects had taken them on a tour around the school, explaining to them where the canteen and classes were, where the labs and practice fields were. None of them interested him but instead, he took every opportunity to crane his neck around to find the ravenette again. At the mention of a library, the boy snapped his attention back to the prefects.

"This is the musicians' circular park. Every Friday afternoon the music club will gather here to perform. If you take a right turn from the music park, down this pathway, you will be two steps away from the school library," the prefect giving them a tour guide explained.

The students hurried after the prefects towards the library. Two steps was an understatement, it was a twenty-yard stone pathway up a flight of stairs. The emerald-eyed boy followed eagerly, wanting to see how big the library was. As they passed through the reception area, they were greeted by a couple of kind-faced librarians who handed them forms to be filled in. The prefects had given them twenty minutes to browse through the shelves and fill up the form while they spoke to the person in charge.

Slim, slender fingers brushed against covers of thickly bound books. As if lost in a sea of literature ecstasy, the young freshman unconsciously separated himself from the main group, basking in the presence of so many works of literature. His eyes roamed over the titles greedily, his mind making up his decision for him; _join the library and reading club. _As he browsed through the books, he caught sight of a familiar author's name, Agatha Christie. Excited that he had found one of his favorite authors amongst the shelves, he reached up to grab a bound copy of the play 'The Mousetrap'.

_This proved tasking. He was just too short._

He stood on the tip of his toes and jumped up slightly but to his dismay, he lost his footing, hobbling backwards in a not so graceful manner. His imminent fall was halted by a slight bump into someone's warm hard chest and he looked up. Emerald eyes opened wide as they gazed into amber-gold eyes, almost liquid in their pools, framed by long dark lashes. Unable to utter a word but a clumsy apology, the raven-haired teen he had sought for all morning looked at him wide eyed and turned his attention to the shelf. Without a word, he pulled the book the shorter boy was trying to grab easily. Holding the book out without a word, the shorter of the two boys took it and held it to his chest as though it was the most precious possession on earth. He found that his heart was racing and cat had caught his tongue. He couldn't look up to face the retreating figure of the boy who merely nodded and left without so much of a '_You're welcome'_.

_Ba-dump._

_Why is this heart beating so fast?_

The older boy's lack of words that said more than any words could ever convey. The quiet way he smiled, his pale red lips pulled up a little in a corner at the smaller boy. The way his smile didn't quite reach up to his eyes as though there was something missing in the way he looked at him. Those amber-gold eyes were almost sad in their expressions, _almost_. The milky pale skin, unblemished in its perfection, it was almost a sin to have such perfect flawless skin.

_Even my head's gone funny,_ he thought, _that I would fall in love over such a little thing. Could someone fall in love with just one simple act of kindness?_

The boy smiled tentatively, his face a crimson tint. There was more to this other boy than meets the eye. He cautiously made his way towards the front desk, much to the dismay of his classmates who were already there, apparently waiting for him. _First day, huh?_ He had embarrassed himself yet again. Stuttering meek apologies, he handed in both book and form to be stamped out. Receiving annoyed glares by some of his new classmates, he sighed. With one last longing look towards the shelves, he vowed to come back as soon as possible.

* * *

_Year 2000_

* * *

_Onodera Ritsu; aged twelve coming thirteen; the Child of Light._

_I walked down the now familiar path, ringed on both sides by rows and rows of Sakura trees. A pile of books rested in the crook of my arms as I carried them to the library to return them. I had other intentions though. The vast collections of rare literature that I could not get a hold of so easily at the bookstore was amazing but… not as amazing as the one person who I yearned to see everyday in this very place. Everyday indeed. He was always in the library after school, between classes, during recesses, during lunches; he was never not there. _

_I wondered to myself. He had a handsome face, that mysterious aura, that aloofness in his attitude; I wondered if he had any girlfriend. A catch like that should be the center of attention at all times. However, he was always alone, never really doing anything other than sitting there till the wee hours of the evening or until the security had asked him to leave. He would sometimes have a book in his hand. Sometimes he would sleep, and this I watched like a sad creep; I loved seeing him sleep. He would prop one foot on the chair and rest his chin on his knee, his arms circling the angled leg. It was a rare occasion to see that dark façade dropped, revealing an almost innocent like expression on his face, trouble free._

_What would he be dreaming of? I find myself wondering sometimes. _

_My heart drummed out a strange tribal rhythm, going out of sorts, out of sync, every time I caught a glimpse of him sitting in his little corner in the furthest table in the library. It must be sick, no? I'm a boy. And… I'm in love with another boy. I kept these feelings to myself, kept it close to my heart, never truly acknowledging it to the object of my affection. I don't think I ever could. Would he return my love? Worse, would he ridicule me? How in the world did I fall in love with him?_

_Ah… Yes, that one act of kindness for a stranger two years ago. It seemed silly, no? Falling in love over one book. _

* * *

_Year 2002_

* * *

_Onodera Ritsu; aged fourteen coming fifteen; the Child of Light._

_I think 'love at first sight' is an extremely meaningless phrase. How much can you know about someone by just meeting him once? Besides, we were both guys. We've never even spoken to each other. Oh well, it's just a temporary infatuation. _

_That's what I thought for three whole years. _

_But fall in love I did. Three years of one-sided unrequited love, three years of pining over a boy who would be graduating in a few months time for college. Three years of stalking and watching him sit in his little corner in the library. I never knew this love would grow so much. I had thought that it might just be a twelve year old's crush and it would soon pass but it never did. That twelve year old's infatuation had turned into a fourteen year old's love of a lifetime. He will be eighteen this year. I will be fifteen. Somehow, in my silly heart, something deep in my soul tells me something magnificent is about to happen. Will it be… will it be that I will find the courage to confront him and tell him of my love? Will Saga-senpai finally acknowledge me?_

_Saga-senpai._

_I have never spoken to him. How did I come across his name?_

_He reads so much. I felt that the books were our only connection. I tiptoed to his desk one quiet afternoon, finally gathering enough courage to steal a peek at the book he was currently reading. Saga-senpai was snoozing in his chair, a foot propped on the chair, his chin resting on top of it. I picked up the book that was opened to a page and quickly scanned the title. He shifted slightly and I very nearly had a heart attack. I dropped the book clumsily, taken by surprise at the sudden movement and sprinted my way to the safety of the shelves._

_Like a creep, a personality unbecoming of me, I waited for him to wake and watched him afterwards, returning a number of books at the counter. When the librarian on duty was not looking, I sifted through the returned books on the shelf and pulled out the name card. I held it out as though it was made of gold, reading the name penciled into the card._

_Saga._

_Saga Masamune._

_I tested its pronunciation. His name rolled off my tongue delicately and I shivered in bliss, my face heating up as though I had said his name out loud for everyone to hear. In truth, I had merely whispered the syllables to myself, holding his name precious to my heart. How a simple name could evoke so much emotion in me, I have yet to fathom its origins. That was how I came to know Saga-senpai's name. I took out every book he ever borrowed, each more precious than the last as it had brought me closer to the object of my affection. It's just a small thing. But now, I feel like I'm getting closer to Senpai just through this. _

_I wrote my name under his. _

_Just like this and I felt that for once, he and I were one…_

* * *

_Neither Heaven nor Hell could have predicted what happened next..._


	6. Chapter 6: Son of The Devil

**A/N: Masamune will definitely be a little OOC here but bear with me as I sort out his childhood history. Step into the mind of a schizophrenic. Thank you for the waiting and apologies for the long wait in update. May the Devil be with you.**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Son of The Devil**

* * *

_Child of Darkness, 15__th__ Year of Birth._

"What's happening to him?! Doctor, do something!"

It was as if the voice of his mother was coming from a distance. He could barely hear it above the cacophony of voices making its home in his head. They started off as curious whispers just as he turned fourteen. They said hello to him and introduced themselves but the voices had begun to gain momentum the closer he was to his fifteenth birthday. They filled his head with ideas; naughty one, silly ones and occasionally dark ones. The voices that supplied these darker thoughts were the ones he most often waited for. When they started talking, all the other lesser voices ceased their bickering, giving his mind a modicum of peace and quiet.

It took him awhile to differentiate the voices but in the end he could identify that there were six of them. The seventh voice however; who was not always present but on the occasions that the voice came, he lapsed into one of his seizures; was the one he yearned to hear the most. The voice was the purest, the gentlest and the most loving of all the voices creating havoc in his young mind. Often, the seven voices spoke to him, told him of worlds beyond the world he was living in now, taught him languages and knowledge unknown to him. He would sit in his bedroom, occasionally spied on by his parents, and he would begin to laugh at jokes only he could hear and spoke in a foreign languages only he could understand. On these rare occasions, often the ones soon after midnight, he would collapse into a seizure and his parents would be forced to take him to the Emergency.

He had spent his fifteenth birthday strapped into a hospital bed, held down by nurses, speaking in an alien language and occasionally laughing as though someone else was there with him. When the seizures intensified, he had begun foaming around the mouth and his eyes rolled into his head as doctors struggled to find the source of his epileptic episodes. The DNA tests then begun, needles after needles were jabbed into his skin, bruises were renewed but hopes of finding answers were slowly trickling into nothingness. As the fifteenth moon passed, the voices suddenly ceased altogether as though it had never happened. However, the damage to his psychology had already been done.

_It was like a bad dream. No… wait… it was too… familiar to be a bad dream…_

Masamune was snapped out of his trance. The memory was always there, ever present in his unconscious state of mind. He sat upright in the chair he was sitting in and closed the book he had just finished reading. It was March now and the Sakura blossoms were in full bloom. The last time the voices visited him was in December, just before Christmas, his fifteenth birthday. Did he snooze in his seat again? Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he got up and walked towards the shelves, looking for a new book to read. His eyes settled on a young freshman, who was standing up on his toes, reaching for a book too high for him to grab. Without thought, Masamune stepped forward to offer some help but before he could open his mouth, the boy slipped and fell on him.

_Such pretty emerald eyes for a boy_, he remembered thinking. He saw the book the boy was reaching for and easily pulled it off the shelf. Listlessly, Masamune smiled and held it out to the boy, who took it gingerly and held it close to his chest. The boy said a _tiny_ thank you and he nodded in acknowledgement but was shaking like a leaf in front of him. _Ah,_ he thought, _I think I saw him earlier at the assembly; must be nervous, first day and all._ Already his mind was on to other things as his eyes caught sight of a book that looked much more interesting than the one he had just pulled. Freshman forgotten, he turned on his heel to walk away to the other shelf.

* * *

_Child of Darkness, 17__th__ Year of Birth._

Hazel eyes snapped open to stare up into the ceiling. The sound of crashing ceramics against the walls of the kitchen and the muffled screams of his parents floated upwards to his bedroom. He wondered if his parents were aware that he was in the house, listening to all these happening at the moment. Placing the pillow over his face, his mind traced back to where and when the fights had begun. It was just over two years ago when Masamune had succumbed to a strange illness on his fifteenth birthday. He had been delirious, falling into a serious seizure, speaking in strange languages and sometimes it was as if someone else was talking, or so claimed by his parents. Though he had not lapsed into an episode after his fifteenth year, his parents decided that they should take DNA tests, to see if there was an abnormality in their family genes that could've caused his seizures and apparent schizophrenia.

Things hadn't been the same since.

The DNA tests came back and doctors had been baffled. Masamune did not share his father's genes. Apparently he had matching alleles with his mother but they had the shock of their lifetimes when the doctor mentioned that his father was not his biological father. His mother had been in hysterics, swearing oath after oath that she had been faithful and his father, had raised more hands to her body than was necessary, calling her an ungrateful whore and demanding that the doctors find the biological father. He had stepped in one time, grabbed the hand that was about to smack a handprint into his mother's face and had received the brunt of his father's anger. He had learnt to shut himself down when the man reached out for him for another round of beating. The man he had looked up to for so many years had raised his hand to him. The man he had known as _father_ had looked at him as if he was dead to him. Masamune had known then, something was not _right_ with him. He had this strong feeling in his gut that something was _changing_ within him.

_And he knew there and then, that this was truly not his father._

They kept running tests after tests, but all the results came back corrupted. They could not identify the alleles of his biological father. They kept insisting that the test results that came back to them did not show human DNA, they were animalistic in nature and that was impossible, as humans couldn't mate outside their gene pool. They marked the tests as corrupted and stuck more needles into Masamune's arms. This was also something he had learnt to ignore. The painful jabs of the biopsy needles that left purple bruises after they had been extracted from under his skin was now akin to him like breathing. His blood bubbled black and not the deep red that had been characterized as traits of human blood. Again, this was cause for alarm. His mother had begun to shun him, blaming him for the breakdown of her marriage and spent more time at her law firm. His father appeared less and less at home, preferring the company of dead bodies in the morgue where he worked as a surgeon.

A phrase caught his ears, cutting the memories short.

"_Son of the Devil_! It's either that or you've slept with a diseased man I know not about! What else could he be if the doctors could not even determine who his real father is!" his father had exploded.

"How could you _say_ that?! He is human; you and I can see that! You know what, I've had enough of this! Maybe… maybe you're right. If you're _delusional _enough to jump into _that_ conclusion, you must really be losing your mind. Yes, you're right. I'll sign those papers. You can't stand being by my side even when the truth is staring at you in your face! You're just making an excuse to get out of this marriage!" came his mother's retort.

"I'm losing my mind? I'm losing _my_ mind?! He is not _my_ son! All this while I've raised a kid who isn't even mine! He's the fruit of your infidelity!"

"I did not _cheat_ on you! How _many_ times do I need to say that?!"

_Papers? What papers?_

Masamune opened the doors to his bedroom slowly, carefully walking out towards the banister where he could hear everything that was going on in the living room. He could see his mother and 'father' at each other's throats. Screaming at each other. He slid down and sat on the top step and stared at the couple stalking each other around downstairs. A painful jagged tear in his heart began slowly making its way into his soul. A single tear slid down his cheek. The family he had known for so long suddenly seemed hostile and distant. His father hated him, his mother… baffled by his existence. He was confused as well.

Who am I? _What_ am I?

He slowly got up and dragged his feet downstairs. The weight of the silent question in his heart had begun to take its toll.

"Okaa-san, Otou-san," a voice from the doorway interrupted the flow of tirades emanating from the living room, "_Who_… _Who am I_?"

His mother had a hand on her throat, her steps faltered, torn between wanting to comfort her son yet was afraid of him at the same time. She had never cheated on his father, and she knew this to be the truth. She had given birth to him, struggled through a painful nine hour birthing and had raised him but right now, she could not even bear to be near him. The more she looked at him, the more she realized the resemblance to another man was apparent. _Her son did not look like her husband_. Her husband and herself had dark brown eyes and her son had hazels, almost gold even. She saw his tear-stricken face and the confused look that was showing on his expression. She heard him repeat the question but all she could do was shake her head in denial.

She denied her son.

"_I don't know, Masamune,"_

"Am I not your son?"

"_I said I don't know Masamune! You don't look like either of us!"_

She had denied him.

_He snapped._

Masamune saw all he needed to see. He had seen the cruelty of his parents and it was served to him on a silver platter of indifference. His father didn't bother turning around to address him; his back turned to him, and his mother had shaken her head, averting her face away from him, denying him. Denying his existence. Denying the seventeen years he had existed in their home as their _son_. Anger boiled hard and furious towards the surface, threatening to spill over his poor shell of a human body. He could feel something otherworldly shifting inside of him as he stared in hatred at both his parents.

"You call _yourselves_ humans?" he bit each word out. Bitterness, frustration, anger and sadness had overwhelmed him, "All you care about are yourselves. If anyone is the victim here, it's _me_! I'm the one who doesn't know where I came from! I didn't ask to be born into this world! You're the worst parents anyone could ever have! You run at the very first sight of a problem! You're beyond cruel! You're just-"

He never really did finish his rampaging words. A hand had appeared out of the blue to smack him right across the face. He looked into the eyes of his father and stared deep into the older male's eyes. Something snapped in him, something animalistic and he closed both his fists. He could taste the blood in his mouth where his teeth had bit into the flesh of his tongue in an effort to stem off the anger. The older man was looking at him, breathing heavily, his chests heaving up and down. His eyeballs were jutting out in anger, the veins in his eyes popping red and his face a deep shade of purple. Masamune continued to stare; fueling his mind with hatred and anger, a fire had started deep in his belly, making its way up his spine and into his head.

"_Kill_," a voice appeared in Masamune's head, clear as day, clear as night, a voice so familiar, so pure yet filled with malice so repugnant. Masamune's heart clenched.

_It had been two years since he had heard the Seventh's voice._

_He knew this voice intimately. He knew in his heart of hearts, he knew this voice._

_And who it was. _

The older Saga was suddenly taken aback by the death glare of the young teen. Something swirled in the depths of his son's eyes, the hazels seemed to have dilated into itself and all the way into black and it was as though he was staring into the eyes of Death himself. _This was not human, by any means, this was a monster; this was the son of the Devil_! His thoughts screamed at him to flee. The hairs on his neck and arms were standing upright; sending chills of fear down his spine. Suddenly he could feel invisible hands snaking around his throat, cutting off the air in his lungs; choking him slowly, surely, _painfully_. The purple hue of his face had nothing to do with anger now; he was truly choking for air.

"Masamune! _MASAMUNE_! Stop it! STOP IT!" his mother's voice rang in his ears and Masamune snapped, coming to his senses. He stared around for awhile and then found that his eyes had caught the sight of his father lying on the ground, hands clawing on his throat, gasping for air, "_Masamune, what did you do!_"

"Wha-What are you?" His father rasped in a throaty croak, barely loud enough for Masamune to hear.

"I don't know. _You_ tell me," Masamune replied in a monotone, "_Maybe I am the son of the Devil_," he repeated his father's accusation from earlier on.

Inside, Masamune was shaking in fear. He had done something he knew was beyond human logic. He turned around and climbed up the stairs towards his bedroom, adamant on shutting himself out. His parents stared after his retreating back; fear was loud and angry in their hearts. They shook even more when Masamune stopped mid-step, decreeing a statement without turning to look at them. There was an edgy undertone to his voice, _as though someone else's voice doubled it._

"I will be eighteen in a few more months. Hold out until then before you get a divorce. I will be of legal age and I will be out of your hairs permanently,"

"_Hai_."

They ruled it out as a minor heart attack caused by the stress of the impending divorce and the knowledge that the older Saga was shocked that his only son wasn't his biological son. The denial was back full force. Being the logical doctor that he was, Saga-sama put the episode down to just that, but he avoided his son like a plague now, seeing as little of him as possible. Truth be told, deep within the older man, he was _afraid_ of his son. He knew it was no mere heart attack and _maybe_ his mind _was_ playing tricks on him, but he thought he had heard a celestial voice in his head as the air was slowly sucked out of him.

"_Touch my son again and I will see you in Hell_," the voice had rasped the corners of his mind, long dark claws trailed by shadows of pain, invading his every livid thought and turning his dreams into nightmares. Whenever he closed his eyes, the voice, behind a faceless entity, taunted him with promises of Hell.

Masamune stepped around the shelves in the library. He spotted a book he wanted to read and walked towards it, unaware that someone else was headed towards the same shelf as he was. As his fingers reached upwards, warm fingers slid under his and he pulled back as though his skin had been lit on fire. The electrical surges that arced into his fingers tingled in its aftermath, leaving a warm feeling behind.

"S-Saga-senpai! P-Please! T-Take the b-book!" it was the freshman he had seen around the library. Freshman? Wait, no, he was a junior now.

_His stalker._

"How did you know my name?" he asked, curiosity had crept into his heart. A heart he hadn't really felt much of having lately.

"_Ehh… I-I l-love you! I l-love y-you S-Senpai!"_

He didn't know what came over him but at the sight of the red-faced teenager, eyes shut tightly closed, his face of pure innocence, spouting love for him; he just wanted to _break_ him. Let's break him and show him how malicious the world is.

"Do you want to go out with me? I don't mind,"

He barely recognized the voice coming out of his mouth. What was he thinking? _They were both boys for god sake_! Where did this boldness come from? The teen looked up at him, obviously in shock. If it was possible to go ten shades redder, he had done just that. Something moved in Masamune's heart, unbeknownst to him, the icicles chained around his heart had begun to melt. He raised a hand to the teen's head and ruffled the younger boy's hair.

_Ah… so soft. _

* * *

_Pandaemonium,  
__Capital City of Hell._

There was an uncertain shift in the air around the royal chamber of the throne room, throwing the usual cacophony of noise into a deafening silence. Lucifer looked up from what he was reading. He could feel a certain crack in Father Time's curse. It was a subtle sign, a slight tremor down his spine but he knew what it was. He closed the ancient book he was in discussion about among his imperial ministers slowly. A leisurely smile began to curve on his lips. The first, most genuinely sadistic smile the ministers had seen in nearly eighteen years.

_The time was near._

_He would soon be united with his children._


	7. Chapter 7: Reincarnation

**A/N: I'm home. For now. Leaving again in two months. Where have I disappeared to? It's a long story I rather not divulged to anyone. Sigh. Too much to swallow, drowning in the state we call life, choking me to death, I wonder how I'm still alive. I won't promise regular updates and I'll update when I can and when it suits my black mood.**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Reincarnation. **

* * *

_Child of Darkness, 17__th__ Year of Birth, the end of winter._

_When I see someone like him, all innocent and forward facing, it makes me realize all the dark, dirty parts of myself and it irritates me. It makes me want to destroy all of that in him…_

"What are you doing after this?" Masamune asked, toying with his half-eaten sandwich.

He had asked the young boy to join him for a subway sandwich when he spotted the green-eyed doe outside of the café, looking misplaced and fidgety. He didn't know what had intrigued him enough about that look that he had approached the boy absentmindedly; finding himself in front of a very flustered looking cherub who seemed to have the shock of his lifetime when he had suddenly materialized out of the blue. His feet had had a mind of their own. The next thing he knew, he was ordering two subway sandwiches at the counter when Ritsu had finally caved into the multitude of barraging questions from the cashier.

"Ah! I was thinking of dropping by the bookstore," Ritsu replied, unconsciously doing it happily, between mouthfuls of the sandwich Masamune had picked out for him, "There's a magazine I want to buy that comes out today,"

"Which one?" Masamune inquired, his interest perking but not showing up on his face.

"Oh! A novel publication, _Shosetsu Koharu_, they just started serialized pieces and one of them caught my eye," Ritsu, replied, sandwich forgotten.

"By Usami Akihiko?" Masamune prodded, seeming to know where this conversation was headed in.

"Yes! You read his stuff too? They're interesting right?" Ritsu beamed brightly, almost giving out a subtle halo around himself that Masamune had to squint a little. _Why does looking at him like that hurt my eyes?_

_He resembles… an innocent angel_, Masamune thought. Just then, a somewhat familiar thrill slithered down his spine. It was as though he was destined to be with this person, destined to do something with him… _wait no_… that's not _right_… he was destined to do something _to_ him. It was right there, at the forefront of his mind but a dark hazy cloud was blocking his memories; blocking his thoughts. The bubbly brunette snapped him back into reality when his name was called repeatedly.

"Saga-senpai? _Senpai_?" Ritsu poked at his arm; waving a hand over Masamune's eyes. Immediately the ravenette blinked rapidly.

"Sorry… hey did you know that he's not that much older than us?" Masamune began; referring to the author of the book they were talking about. He felt slightly embarrassed having been caught zoning out.

"Seriously? _Sugoiii_!" Ritsu exclaimed excitedly; again that boy just seemed to shimmer in some divine light that Masamune had to blink and squint slightly. _What is this… light?_

Walking home from the bookstore after parting ways with Ritsu, Masamune was filled with contradicting thoughts. _Shit… In the end I just let myself get carried away with excitement. What am I going to do with that guy? And yet, being able to talk about something I love as much as I want was seriously fun. And it pisses me off for some reason… I shouldn't be having fun… What is this contradiction I'm feeling? I feel like a complete hypocrite._ And just like that his mood began to blacken.

It didn't help that as soon as he entered the house, he heard the bickering once more. _Hadn't he given them a warning? Hadn't he told them to stick it out until he turned eighteen and leave this hellhole for college?_ Anger boiled towards the surface in waves after waves. A tick began to form on his forehead as he chewed the soft flesh of his inner cheek, trying to control the unwavering anger. Insidious thoughts leaked into his mind as his legs seemed to suddenly have a mind of its own, stepping closer towards the living room where his 'parents' were exchanging some heated words. His steps came to a sudden stop and his eyes darkened and dilated into nothing but opaque blacks when he overheard what his parents were arguing about.

"I can't take it, I keep hearing the Devil's voice in my head! This voice is driving me crazy I tell you!" his father exclaimed over, "We have to kill the boy before he kills us…"

Kill… _me_?

"Are you _crazy_? Listen to yourself! He will be out of our hairs soon, just a few more months! We can't kill him! What if… what if the Devil comes after us?!"

His hands reached upwards to push the doors opened and give them a piece of his mind but something stopped him in that split of a second. A presence, like a dark shadow in his thoughts, appeared. The _Seventh_… the most beautiful voice he had every heard, the one that always took his breath away when it came to visit his thoughts, made its presence known to him then; killing his intended tracks.

_Hush, my son, leave them be. They won't hurt you, they can't hurt you. You are my son, my flesh and blood._

"F… _Father_?" Masamune whispered into thin air. The air around him prickled with a hint of energy as though responding to his unbidden call. His eyes returned to their normal shade of hazels, blinking rapidly at the sudden tears that threatened to spill as the onslaught of the seizures began to take over. He picked up his heels quickly and clambered up the stairs towards his bedroom. He pressed his back to the door as soon as he had shut it tight behind him. Both his hands came up to squeeze the sides of his head. His epileptic seizures were coming in fast and in his heightened awareness; he saw images in his mind. It was as if a door had been unlocked somewhere in the deepest and darkest pits of his soul. He gritted his teeth and bit down his lips, tasting blood on the tip of his tongue. He forced his mind to concentrate on the images, mentally willing and pushing the seizures away from him.

_Yes, Masamune, it won't be long now. You are growing stronger by the day. Fight it. Break the curse. You are an akuma. You are my son, the demon lord, the heir of Pandaemonium. The son of the Devil. My son..._

Masamune's hands were shaking so badly as flashes of an image of a woman fleeted through his memories. She looked very much like him; hazel eyes with a hint of cruelty around the edges; a dazzling smile that grinned at him cheekily and beckoned him forward; long black hair cascading softly down smooth pale skin. _Who was she?_ Just as he contemplated the identity of this woman, images of an ethereally beautiful man, far more beautiful than any man he had ever seen; with raven black hair flowing down his back; the unmistakable black eyes of death; pale lips smiling at him showing off the glint of incisors; a pale hand sharpened with black claws extending towards him…

_Reaching for him…_

As though… in need to embrace him.

And eerily, for some odd reason, it didn't frightened Masamune.

For once, he felt as though he _belonged_.

Just as the pain of the seizures began to subside, so did the voices that plagued him but brightly etched into his black thoughts were the faces he had seen in his mind. Somehow… he felt at peace… a feeling he had not felt in a long time. The burden of not knowing who he was had been lifted off his shoulders. He took a tentative breath in and then breathed deeper. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, counting to ten in his head. He was now convinced.

_He was not of this world._

"Masamune," a gruff voice could be heard behind the door he was leaning on, he quickly registered the voice as his 'father', "Open the door,"

"Why?" Masamune replied insolently, standing up on his feet and stretching towards the ceiling. He walked nonchalantly towards his bed and sat down; shaking off the remnants of the pain in his head, "Door's unlocked, come in,"

In his heart of hearts he knew what his 'otou-san' was up to. He knew, from the argument he overheard earlier on that they intend to murder him before whatever it is they are afraid of came to pass. He leaned his head on the headboard of his bed, propping a knee up and switching on the television. His attention however, was not on the show. His eyes were trained on the slow turn of the doorknob of his bedroom. He checked the clock to the side of his bed and noticed that it should be early in the evening by now. His curtains were drawn and the only source of light was emitted by the television.

Slowly, the door to his bedroom opened, revealing a short stout man – another trait that had, obviously, not been inherited by Masamune who was taller than most boys his age – with half-mad eyes that bulged in their sockets and shaky hands gripping a kitchen knife. Masamune felt a strange indifference towards this man. There was no fear in his mind and his heart was strangely calm. He felt the quiet creeping of a viscous black shadow slowly pooling itself in his mind's eye, as though coiled tightly and ready to strike like the serpents of hell. In the darkness of the room, his eyes had dilated back to black, the hazels completely invisible.

_A glimmer of power coursed through his veins._

"Otou-san," Masamune drawled lazily, "What's with the knife?"

The man stopped dead in his advancing tracks. Hesitance flashed across his face. He held the knife higher and tighter, but as he tried to advance forward towards the boy in front of him, the dreaded spawn of the devil, he felt that he had been frozen in his place. When understanding dawned on him, his eyes became large saucers of fear as the hand holding the knife slowly came down pointing toward his own neck. It was as though someone else was controlling him, turning him into an unwilling marionette; strung along like a life-size puppet.

Cold sweat broke across the older man's forehead at the inevitable doom.

_Masamune, repeat after me, __Taifū no me ni wa, kuroi umi no kokoro wa, fukai mizu no hebi wa, zenpō ni ki shime to hizumi, chōku ya nusumi, inochi no hikari, shōhi shi, zenpō ni kuru!__ Kill him, child..._

Repeat Masamune did. He followed the simple instruction. He had not heard these words before but it rolled off his tongue as though it was natural for him.

Ribbons of crimson; dark red, shiny crimson, nearly black in its hurry to leave the vessel that had held it intact for so long; sprouted forwards gleefully. Painting the floor around it in pools of a deep, rich, velvety red. Something gurgled as though it was drowning to death. Masamune came back to reality; the shadow in his mind remaining where it was, observing from a distance its own handiwork; and the young ravenette smiled cynically, picking himself up leisurely from the bed. He approached the dying man who had by now fallen to his knees, grasping the jagged tear that yawned open across his throat; eyes opened wide in fear and utter disbelief, tears of pain cascading down his face.

Masamune knelt in front of his 'otou-san' who in his dying breath, managed to grasp tightly to the front of his shirt, leaving bloody handprints, soaking his white uniform in angry red smears. The boy brought his right hand up to cup the cold skin around the man's cheek. He smiled softly and pressed his lips on the older man's forehead and bent forward a little to whisper in the man's ear.

"You shouldn't have tried to kill me, _otou-san_… My real _father_ is unhappy with you. He sends his regards and will welcome you to our _true_ home…"

A shudder and a final voiceless gurgle signaled the passing of a sinful soul into the afterlife. Masamune let go of his hand and the body crumbled to the floor. The boy inhaled as he sat back on his legs, tucking them under him. The sweet smell of iron-filled blood was making his head dizzy and as though intoxicated by the heady scent, he scooped up the fresh blood in the palms of his hands and held it just above his face.

Rich red velvet ribbons trickled down his cheeks as he scooped up more blood, smearing the elixir across his pale skin. A soft chuckle escaped his smiling lips as the sensation of the viscous liquid poured down his skin in a slow motion, tickling his innermost sensations.

He felt it then… _desire_… _lust_…

He _needed_ more…

He _needed_ to _feel_ the soft, pale skin… of a particular young _brunette_…

"MASAMUNE! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" A scream shattered his sexually charged illusions rudely.

The voice, high-pitched and shrill, grated on his sensitive eardrums. He slowly opened his eyes and was met with the image of his _okaa-san_. Smiling in a slightly deranged way, Masamune pried the kitchen knife off his _otou-san's_ hand and slowly got to his feet. The shadow in his mind laughed hysterically as he advanced towards the woman who had given birth to him. Nothing but a vessel to bring him into this world. With a slight tilt of his head, he plunged the knife into the beating heart of the woman, cutting it out of her breast and devouring it, consuming it, and licked every last drop of the crimson blood that dripped from it.

_Enough child, not too much, not in your present state, lest it makes you sick. You have not completely returned to your demon form. Now repeat after me.__ Jigoku no hi de moyasu. Watashi no shiryoku no mae ni kieru…_

"Burn in the fires of Hell. Vanish before my sight…"

Bright blue fires engulfed him, gently tickling his senses but burning every last smear of blood on him and his clothes. It consumed both the bodies on the floor, burning all traces of murder from the house.

He smiled a satisfied smirk.

_The Son of the Devil. Reincarnated at last and soon to be reunited with his true father… _


	8. Chapter 8: The Devil's Child II

After many hiccups and inability to express my words properly, the antagonist's daughter's story is now told. Be mindful, there are a few time jumps here. Words took a while to take up its usual flow. I will be leaving the US in five days and taking this free time to upload this chapter. This chapter is dedicated to my love, my muse, ToktelasAndTea; of whom without, I would have lost the drive to work this story. Please visit her amazing Victorian-laced stories.

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**Chapter 8: Reincarnation of the Devil's Child II**

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_Child and Daughter of Darkness, 17__th__ Year of Birth_

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The thumping of her heartbeats was loud in her ears as she ran from the school to her house. Sweat trickled down her back, pooling above her waistband, dampening the black piece of cotton that was the only barrier between her naked form and the curious eyes watching her run past. She wasn't exactly the typical stereotyped Japanese girl. She was tall and lean for her seventeen years; with long black hair pulled back into a high ponytail on the crown of her head; her features beautiful yet almost handsome – with defining cheekbones; striking full pale red lips often pulled back into a grimace or a sneer, whichever mood she felt she was in; large cat-like liquid amber-gold eyes that, at certain angles when she turned her face into the sun, had flecks of green and red in it – very reminiscent of a jungle cat and white pale skin that no matter how many times she ran under the sun, she would never get a tan. She was a head turner this girl, like a strange exotic looking porcelain doll that collectors would love to dress up and put on the highest shelf for display.

This was her routine every afternoon just after school ended. She would put on her running suit consisting of a pair of knee-high black leggings that exposed smooth pale skin, a black short sleeved cotton t-shirt, and a pair of black and red running pumps. Eyes narrowed in determination, she would run the two and half miles to her house, reveling in the power her long lean legs carried. Calf muscles could be seen straining under the pressure she had forced on them, defining her already muscular physique; the rhythmic thumps of her soles hitting the tarmac syncing with her heartbeats and the synchronized breathing _in-in-out-in-in-out_ allowed her mind to focus on dispelling the toxicity of the medicines from her pores. Sweating profusely, she blinked them out of her eyes; feeling so much better already.

Running was a release for her, better than the amitriptyline and chlorpromazine they kept forcing down her throat every time one of those waves come calling. Every now and then she would need to be electrocuted when the waves persisted. She called them waves as they start with small voices and gradually become loud and deafening. The voices didn't bother her at all, she even interacted with them on so many levels but her parents thought that it was not normal for a seventeen year old to be talking to herself. Especially if that seventeen year old was speaking an alien language they could not understand. It was a mix of Hebrew and Latin and Norse, laced with Japanese.

It scared her parents more than anything because she would sit on a placemat on the floor of her bedroom, her face facing one corner – it was always the darkest corner away from the light, her back facing them and began singing in a voice that didn't seem to belong to her. Singing was mildly putting it. It sounded more like she was reciting incantations. Her parents would listen in on her and occasionally peeked into her bedroom through the gap of the door she left ajar.

It was quite a dark night on the eve of her fifteenth birthday, with starless skies, a light breeze adding to the chill of the darkness surrounding the house when her parents saw what she had done and knew that it was the last straw. Shirou Nagasaki woke up to a beautiful humming like a siren's call to the sailors of old stories. It was pleasant at first that he thought it was a dream. Then the singing began and instinctively he knew his daughter was up to her antics again. Grousing; he shook his wife awake and blinking the sleep out of their eyes, both husband and wife climbed out of their bed to head to their daughter's bedroom on the other end of their landing.

Shirou noticed that the night was darker and colder than usual and his skin prickled with goosebumps. Clutching his arm tightly, his wife followed him on tip toes towards their daughter's room. As they approached her door, they could see a light blue light peeping from the gap underneath the door. Their curiosities, doubled with a strange mixture of fear and trepidation began to heighten and they quickly pushed the door wide open…

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_Child and Daughter of Darkness, The Beginnings…_

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"_It's a miracle, Nagasaki-san! Your wife shouldn't have been able to conceive but she's three months pregnant with a baby! Our treatment has succeeded!" the doctor exclaimed, enthusiastically shaking the hands of the stunned newly-pronounced father._

It was three years ago, at the eve of their wedding night, that the Nagasaki couple –who was headed to the airport for their honeymoon– was derailed off the road by a drunk driver. The drunk driver was killed on the spot, Shirou Nagasaki suffered minor injuries because he had his seatbelt on and the airbag had deployed but his wife had taken the brunt of the impact. A piece of metal had pierced her abdomen and if she had arrived at the Emergency a minute too late, she too would have died.

Mariko Nagasaki had multiple surgeries and among these surgeries, the surgeons had to remove her uterus. She was unable to conceive and this news had broken her heart so much that she had become a recluse for over a year, refusing to see anyone except her husband. She would cry herself to sleep thinking of all the children that she could've had with Shirou. She was inconsolable. Shirou had tried everything to make her happy again but to no avail. There was always that distant look in her eyes every time she saw a child being cared for by its mother and father.

And every single time she would run away crying.

"All I want is a child to make our lives complete. I'm not asking for much, just one... Just one," this was her mantra every night since the accident had taken away her ability to create life within her.

Shirou was at his wit's end; he could not bear Mariko's suffering any longer and had gone to many places, looking for many practitioners and gynecologists who could end his wife's pain and give her hope. Many quoted delicate surgeries that could endanger her life and as his desperation grew, he was introduced to a lone practitioner, Dr. Asmodera Akumade by a stranger he had met at a bar one night. He had gone to the bar to drown his sorrows and was approached by a clean cut young man who stroke up a chat with him.

"_Watashi wa Domyouji Takara_," he had introduced himself, "You looked like you're really going to drink yourself to death there buddy,"

"Ah. _Watashi wa Nagasaki Shirou_," Shirou replied in between his drinks, laughing softly, "If only you knew,"

"You don't mind sharing? I know I might not be able to help but I can listen,"

From that fated conversation, Shirou was introduced to Dr Asmodera Akumade. His wife had been very reluctant to undergo anymore surgeries and couldn't bear the idea of her hopes being shattered into a million pieces. After endless arguments and coercions, she finally gave in and after a series of intensive tests; Mariko was prepped for surgery to replace her uterus with a new one.

"T-Thank you! Thank you, doctor! Thank you!" with tears fresh in their eyes; they thanked the man who had given the Nagasaki's a chance to conceive their first child. Shirou had kissed his wife repeatedly, tasting the saltiness of her tears that would not stop flowing.

"Thank you, God, thank you," Mariko whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of her joy.

Dr. Asmodera caught the last sentence and smirked as he turned his back to give the couple some privacy, "_God has nothing to do with it you stupid woman_," he mused quietly as he shut the door and left the couple.

The nine months was wrought with plenty of hardships for the soon to be parents. The accident had taken much of Mariko's ability to support the child growing inside of her and she had to be induced five weeks before her due date. Thirteen long painful hours into a scream infested labour, Mariko had finally given birth to a baby girl. Though overjoyed with the birth of the child, her birth was surrounded by strange circumstances. Dr. Asmodera had disappeared without a trace a month before the baby girl's birth and the building where his practice had once been was deserted. It was as though the place had not been occupied in months. There was no record of a Dr. Asmodera Akumade in the official list of practitioners from the Board of Directors of the Ministry of Health. Everyone was interested in this miracle birth but no one could fathom the good doctor's sudden disappearance.

The birthing was a nightmare. It was even more excruciatingly painful than the accident that took away her ability to conceive on her wedding night. The pain was soon forgotten as soon as her baby girl had come into the world. She had the blackest tuff of hair, the palest and whitest skin they had ever seen on a baby, not the usual red blotch a normal baby had. Her eyes were liquid amber-gold that blinked rapidly with intelligence and even stranger was the fact that the baby did not cry but mewled quietly as though reproaching her parents for taking too long to let her loose into the world.

Claps of thunders hinted at the fast approaching storm on the night of her birth and before Shirou had a chance to think of a name, Mariko had whispered a singular word that had the baby giggling and snuggling into her bosom for the warmth that was present there.

"_Raiu_," Mariko whispered. The name fitted perfectly as though it had come to her on a premonition, "Like the storm that's causing the havoc outside right now, you're just like that by coming into this world. _A storm_,"

"Mariko, are you _sure_?" Shirou had asked. He would've chosen a lovelier name that hinted at subtlety and propriety, suitable for a girl.

"Yes, it just… _sounds_ right," Mariko added whispering quietly, afraid of waking up the baby who was snoozing quietly on her bosom, "It was a difficult journey conceiving her, Shirou," looking up into her husband's eyes, she could see the finality of his agreement there.

"Then Raiu it is. Welcome into the world our miracle baby girl, our little storm, _Nagasaki Raiu_," Shirou whispered, kissing his wife on her brow and his sleeping baby girl on the top of her head.

* * *

_Child and Daughter of Darkness, 15__th__ Year of Birth_

* * *

_Their curiosities, doubled with a strange mixture of fear and trepidation, began to heighten and they quickly pushed the door wide open… Before their eyes, they witnessed their daughter's atrocity against another human life._

_Their daughter was naked, without a stitch on her body. What skin was untouched by the liquid that bathed her was smooth and translucent against the fire's blue light that was emitting from the black candles. __The whiteness of her skin contrasted greatly with the deep dark liquid that trickled down the crevices of her naked body as she held a golden goblet above her head, pouring the viscous liquid over herself. This liquid had the unmistakable stench of iron. __Realization dawned on the couple. Their daughter was bathing herself in rich, velvety, crimson blood… and their eyes traveled to the source of this life source..._

_The blood belonged to what was left of a female toddler that lay at her feet as the dark haired amber-eyed teenager stood in a large inverted pentagram with black candles that burned a bright blue at every point. The toddler's eyes were shut tight, bleeding profusely from a wide gaping wound in her neck. One look and they knew that the little girl was already dead._

_The singing came to a sudden halt and this caught both adults by cold surprise. The teenager had turned around slowly, annoyance etched into the frown in her face as she turned her burning gaze at the intruders. Shirou and Mariko saw that night that this being parading around as their daughter was not human. Pitch black eyes stared at them defiantly, a hint of red in its depths as the lips curled into a menacing smile showing the glint of a pair of elongated and sharpened incisors._

_The being took a step forward towards them and the couple took a step back, voices caught in their throats, unable to scream for help. The girl they had known as their daughter came closer, and by some divine intervention, the exact moment her right foot left the inverted pentagram, her pitch black eyes returned to their amber-gold hues right before their sights – as though something had broken the menacing spell the girl had woven around herself. Without another blink, the couple watched as their daughter collapsed onto the floor before them; with her eyes rolling into her head and mouth foaming up as her naked form was wracked by a torrent of seizures._

_Rooted on the spot in fear, unable to do anything until reality snapped them into action, the Nagasakis realized one brutal fact as they called for the police and the ambulance…_

_Their miracle baby had turned into a cold blooded murderer…_


End file.
